“Good.” I nodded. I still wasn’t entirely sure how I would react.
“Ready?” She held her pass poised over the scanner, waiting for my OK.
I nodded. Dana swiped the pass and pulled the door open.
The sound drew Zara’s attention, and she dropped the book and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
She opened her mouth to say something, probably sarcastic, but she saw me and froze.
For a beat we just stared each other down. She was in blue pants and a gray T-shirt. Her hair was brushed, but it needed a trim and looked messy at the ends. She had no makeup on—no signature dark eyeliner and bold lipstick.
She looked healthy but . . . bare. Stripped of anything that could exhibit individuality. She probably hated that.
Good . . .
After a moment the shock in her eyes was replaced by something much more complex. Sadness, maybe? A hint of longing and . . . something else? Something messy.
She cleared her throat and slowly stood up. “I’d given up hope that you were going to come.”
“Well, I’m here now.” I crossed my arms. “So get on with it. Say what you have to say so I can get on with my life and forget you ever existed.”
“I deserved that.” She nodded, moving to the front of the door.
“You think?”
We were close enough to shake hands, the translucent film of ability-resistant material the only thing separating us. The only sign it was there at all was the slight iridescent quality it had and the fact that Zara’s voice sounded just a little muffled.
“How have you been, Eve? How are your guys? Dot and Charlie? I heard they got him out.” She looked as if she genuinely cared—as if she genuinely wanted to know how I was.
But I knew how well she could fake it. I’d seen it firsthand—right up until she slammed that van door shut.
“As if you give a shit,” I spat.
“I deserved that too, I suppose.” She sighed. “But I do. Everything was . . .” She made a circular gesture with her head. “. . . twisted. I fucked up. Big time. Like, epically. But I do really care, Eve. I’m so sor—”
“Save it!” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe that you spent months plotting against me, pretending to care, yet now, all of a sudden it’s real? How fucking stupid do you think I am?”
“I wasn’t pretending to care, even then. I love you, Eve, and I was incredibly conflicted about what I was doing, unsure about it until the last minute, but . . .”
I just arched a brow, silently showing her my skepticism.
“I’ve thought about this for so long—what I would say to you, how I would explain and beg for your forgiveness—but it’s all coming out wrong.”
“Maybe it’s coming out wrong because you’re wrong. There’s got to be something seriously fucked up about you that you could do that to someone you called a friend. That you could go and join the very people responsible for Beth’s death. Have you ever truly cared about anyone in your life?”
I was being cruel, but I needed to say all the things I’d been refusing to acknowledge for months. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again; I had to let it all out.
At the mention of Beth’s name, anger flared in her eyes and her fists balled up. For the first time, I saw a glimpse of the Zara I knew—the one I’d called my friend.
My heart clenched.
The biggest thing I’d been avoiding was how much I fucking missed her. It hurt so much.
I expected her to throw a cutting remark in my face, but the anger crumpled just as fast as it had come. She hung her head as tears streamed down her face.
Next to me, Dana shuffled and crossed her arms loosely. She wasn’t particularly comfortable with emotions, and Zara and I were flinging them around with abandon.
Zara sniffed and swiped at her tears. “You’re right.” Her voice was strained, but she raised her red-rimmed eyes to mine. “Beth would’ve hated what I did. What I became. She probably would’ve stopped being my friend a long time ago.”
“No, she wouldn’t have.” I sighed. “Beth was selfless and kind. She would’ve stuck by you. She would’ve stuck by us both and made us make up. Maybe none of this would’ve even happened if she was still around.”
“I miss her so much.” Zara sobbed.
“Me too,” I croaked. I hated myself for it—I didn’t want to show her any weakness.
“She always pushed me to be a better person, you know? Even when we were kids. She would’ve forgiven Rick right away, probably made really good friends with him too.”
I chuckled through my tears. She was right. Making the man who’d killed her a friend was exactly the kind of thing she would’ve done. I didn’t get to know him very well before he died, but I had a feeling Rick would’ve embraced the friendship—would’ve embraced any opportunity for redemption.
I guess, in a way, he did redeem himself. He’d tried to warn me to be careful, and in the end, he stood up to his parents and sacrificed himself to save his friend. To save Ethan.
Did Zara deserve the opportunity to redeem herself too?
Beth would’ve wanted me to be kind, to not hold on to resentment, but I just couldn’t get past my hurt and anger. Thinking about Rick and that awful night in Thailand brought it all rushing back, as uncontrollable as a hurricane.
“I know Beth would’ve wanted me to forgive you, but I can’t, Zara. You were one of the closest friends I’d ever had. I loved and trusted you, and you betrayed me. You broke . . .” my trust? Our friendship? My heart? “. . . so many things.”
I ran my hands through my hair and took a step back. I didn’t even know what I was saying anymore.
“Wait!” She stepped as close to the doorway as the clear membrane would allow, her eyes puffy and panicked. “Please don’t go.”
“What else is there to say, Red?”
“Please, I haven’t explained about . . . I want to tell you about my parents and the way I was raised and . . . and how angry I was after Beth, and then Davis . . . He’s so good at twisting things. And I know—I know—none of it excuses what I did, but I wanted to at least explain some of it so you would understand.”
“I get it.” I spread my arms, then let them drop to my sides. “OK? I know about your childhood and your asshole parents. You told me all about it when we were roomies. I know what a manipulative prick Davis is—I know better than anyone what he’s capable of. I know how you must’ve felt after Beth . . . but you know what I can’t get over? Why you didn’t come to me. Why you didn’t confide in me, let me be there for you. I just . . .” I groaned. The tears were welling up again, and I’d had enough. “I can’t do this anymore. Let’s go.”
Dana nodded, nothing but sympathy in her eyes, although I wasn’t sure if it was for me or Zara. Probably a bit of both.
“No!” Zara’s voice took on an edge of desperation. “Please! Please, Eve, I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but please, take it. Take it away!”
I paused, mainly out of confusion. What the hell was she talking about? “What?”
“I know you can. Your mom could do it, and you glow, so you can do it too. That’s why he wanted you—so he could figure out how you take the abilities away. Please, take Rick’s ability away again. I don’t want it anymore. It’s not right. It feels wrong in every way.”
“You want me to . . .” I was stunned. The last thing I’d expected was for her to ask me that. “Zara, it could kill you. I’ve never actually done it, and you know what?” There was that anger again, bubbling up like a geyser. “Where do you get off asking me for anything?”
“I know I don’t deserve anything from you, but I don’t want it. I don’t want to be this . . . this . . . person. It doesn’t belong to me, and I want to give it back.”
“You can’t give it back. Rick is dead, remember? And you can’t ask me to risk taking your life. I may think you’re the scum of the earth, but I don’t want to be a killer.”<
br />
I wasn’t entirely sure it would kill her. The electricity wasn’t Zara’s—it was Rick’s. I would technically just be removing something that didn’t belong in the first place. But I couldn’t be sure. Once it was transplanted, perhaps it fused to her Light, to her very essence.
I had no problem defending myself, but I couldn’t stand there and deliberately and calculatingly do something that could end a person’s life, no matter how mad I was at that particular person.
“You made your bed, Zara.” I nodded at the narrow cot in the corner. “It consists of a thin mattress and a scratchy blanket. Now lie in it.”
“I don’t care if it kills me.” Again, her words floored me. She was no longer yelling and pleading; she was calm now, resigned. “I’ve got nothing left. I’d be better off dead.”
She looked broken. Her shoulders were hunched, and silent tears streamed unhindered down her face and neck.
She shuffled slowly back to the cot.
I turned away before she reached it, and Dana softly closed the door.
I walked to the end of the hall, my steps rushed. I needed to give my body something to do—some other reason for my labored breathing.
Dana caught up to me as I reached the door to the anteroom. She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Eve. I never would’ve asked you to come if I knew it would be so . . .”
“Fucked up?” I supplied.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “She’s been so cooperative and pretty much OK. Honest about the shit she’s done but accepting responsibility, you know? Never even hinted at suicidal thoughts . . .”
“Is there anything in that room she can use to . . .”
“No. It’s strict policy. They’re not allowed much.”
“Good. Is she allowed other visitors? Like, maybe a psychiatrist? Maybe I should . . .” I looked back down the hallway. It was so long. Impossibly long.
“No.” Dana shook her head. “You didn’t even have to come see her. This is not your responsibility. She’s in Melior Group custody. I’ll make sure she gets some help.”
I nodded, taking a few deep breaths, and then Dana surprised the hell out of me by pulling me into a hug. “You’ve got enough on your plate, Eve. I got this.”
I held her tightly, not saying anything—partly because if I started talking about this clusterfuck again, I would start crying, but partly because I was a little speechless.
A year ago, even a few months ago, if someone had told me Dana would one day hug me, be there for me, share her burrito with me, I would’ve figured one or both of us was certifiably insane.
But there we were. Hugging. In a secret underground prison.
“Thank you, Dana,” I whispered as we pulled apart.
“Don’t mention it.” She smiled, swiping her pass to open the door. “Seriously. If you tell anyone I hugged you, I’ll kill you.”
I laughed—a loud, full-bellied laugh. It was exactly what I needed to lift the heavy weight sitting on my chest, threatening to suffocate me.
Dana was fast becoming one of my favorite people. Who would’ve thought?
Nineteen
Dana pulled the door shut just as the one on the opposite side of the anteroom beeped and opened. Alec stepped out, a deep frown pulling at his brows, his shoulders tense.
When he spotted us, he took a deep breath and blew it out of his nose. “What the fuck?”
“What?” Dana crossed her arms and bristled. “Evelyn asked to see her.”
“She’s not supposed to have visitors, and she”—he pointed at me but didn’t look—“is supposed to be upstairs with Gabe.”
“Zara can speak with anyone with level four clearance and above.” Dana lifted her chin. Considering how stubborn they both were, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if this ended in violence. I took a tentative step back.
Alec threw me an incredulous look before dropping his arms. He rubbed his closely cropped hair and dragged his palms down his face. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t look at either of us, but I knew his words were for me. Without waiting for a response, he walked down the corridor.
I looked at Dana and cringed. “Are you in trouble?”
“Nah.” She shrugged. “I followed the rules. He can’t do shit to me. You, on the other hand . . . ”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry. I can take it.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You’re not at all what I first thought you were, Evelyn Maynard.”
“Yeah, I’m a real mystery, wrapped in an enigma, dipped in a glow stick.” I waved my hand as I walked away from her, trying not to lose sight of Alec as he rounded the corner.
Behind me Dana laughed, and a door beeped as it unlocked.
I jogged to catch up, but Alec was leaning on the wall around the corner, waiting for me. He didn’t spare me a glance before swiping his security pass and opening a door next to the elevator. I followed him into the stairwell and groaned. Kane would be proud of all this extra exercise I was getting in.
Alec took the winding stairs two at a time. I had to jog to keep his tense back within view. His hands were in fists, but his butt looked amazing in the tight black uniform—it stretched over his defined glutes with every unnecessarily large step he took.
I was getting puffed and pissed, and I was done chasing him.
“Alec!” I yelled, but he kept walking.
“Alec, stop!” He reached a landing and froze. I was a little glad to see his shoulders were heaving too. Not as bad as mine, but still.
I climbed the last few stairs to reach him and stood at his elbow, looking at his strong profile. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Really?” He turned to fix me with a scowl. It reminded me of how he used to treat me at the very start—with disdain. I flinched away, but a lot had happened since then, and I was no longer backing down.
“Yes, really. So I went to see Zara! So—”
“I don’t give a shit about that!” His deep voice bounced off the concrete walls. “That’s your decision to make, and you were safe with Dana.”
“Then what the fuck is your problem?” I threw my hands up and let them flop down at my sides.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t see—like you don’t know what I was doing in that room.” His nostrils flared, his posture and expression radiating anger, but I could see something else in his icy eyes too.
“You’re pissed because I saw you doing your job?”
“I’m pissed because you saw what I’m capable of.” We were chest to chest now, breathing hard and glaring.
“I know what you’re capable of. I’m not a fucking idiot. You have a pain ability. You work for a secretive security company that keeps people detained in the basement of their fancy building in Manhattan.”
“Evelyn, I just tortured a man,” he ground out, as if I still wasn’t getting the point.
I sighed in frustration. “Yes, Alec, I’m aware. Do I like it? No, of course not. Torture has been proven to be an ineffective interrogation strategy. According to several studies, ‘rapport-based’ interrogation techniques, such as finding common ground and demonstrating kindness and respect, are generally the most effective. But I mostly don’t like it because I know you hate doing it. But just like you acknowledge that seeing Zara was my choice, I acknowledge that you doing this is your choice and part of your job. I don’t know what the fuck you’re so upset about.”
“I’ve read the fucking torture studies, Evelyn, and it’s rare that we use ‘enhanced interrogation techniques,’ but when it’s necessary, guess who they ask to do it? Now stop pretending that you’re not repulsed by this. That you don’t find me abhorrent for doing it. Everyone else does.”
“I’m not everyone else, asshole!” I yelled, right into his face. I couldn’t help it. But I did manage to lower my volume, if not the level of intensity, for the next part. “I’m Evie. I’m your Vital. I’m completely and irrevocably tethered to you in every conceivable way. I . . .”
He was feeling like shit about himself again, as if he didn’t deserve my understanding and affection. He’d spent his whole life building that wall. My mind got stuck on those three little words I couldn’t say, and what else could I say? Would he even hear me anyway?
So I decided to show him.
I closed the distance, wrapping my arms around his neck and attacking his lips with mine. He grunted and circled his arms around my middle, pushing his tongue into my mouth. He didn’t drive me away with his body as he had with his words. Instead he drew me closer, pouring all his rage and frustration and desperate need into that one frantic kiss. I took it all and gave it right back, our hands pawing at each other, his threading into my hair, mine pulling on his shirt.
The sound of a door slamming echoed through the stairwell, and we broke the kiss but still clutched each other. I held his icy stare as the sound of voices and several footsteps reached us from below. It sounded as if we were right in their path.
I groaned in disappointment. No one could get me going as fast as Alec. More and more often when we got into each other’s faces, neither of us willing to let our stubbornness go and concede, it would end in frenzied, passionate sex. I couldn’t seem to get enough. It was as if I’d psychologically primed myself to associate our bickering and arguing with sex, like some fucked-up version of Pavlov’s dog. Pavlov’s cock?
It couldn’t have been healthy, but that didn’t change the fact that I was so ready to go that my abdominal and vaginal muscles were clenching and relaxing in anticipation. How the hell was I supposed to face people in this state?
Apparently Alec didn’t want to wait either.
“Fuck it,” he growled and grabbed me by the wrist, climbing the few stairs up to the next level. He swiped his access card and pulled me through the door. Most of the fluorescent lights inside were off. The only light came from the “Exit” sign and the flickering indicators on rows and rows of computers stacked on top of each other in glass cabinets.
Vivid Avowed (The Evelyn Maynard Trilogy Book 3) Page 22